Arizona Night
by QueenOfThePlovers
Summary: A road-trip from Los Angeles to Houston turns into a nightmare for Beck, Tori, and Cat when a car wreck leaves them in the middle of the Arizona desert. Stranded, injured, and alone, little do they know that their ordeal is just beginning.
1. Chapter I - Poorwill

My first attempt at a Victorious fanfic - hope y'all enjoy! If you have a moment, please leave a review (good or bad). Reviews really do help and I read any and all feedback, criticisms, etc.!

**CHAPTER I**

**POORWILL**

"Cat...Cat...you gotta keep your eyes open, girl. C'mon, you gotta stay with me."

Tori pressed her favorite Stanford t-shirt to the bleeding wound on the side of Cat's head, the heather- gray fabric staining a deep red.

The slim-built redhead laid supine and unresponsive on the desert dirt road. Tori paused only to wipe the blood away that was pouring down from a wound on her own forehead and into her left eye. The pitch darkness of the Arizona night was broken solely by a small flashlight propped up against a rock.

"Tori, Tori – what do you need?" Beck asked, "is Cat okay?"

"She's..." Tori answered, keeping her gaze affixed on Cat, "she's...bleeding pretty badly."

"What?" Beck asked, not able to fully understand her.

She turned to him over her shoulder, "Beck, I can't...she's...just gimme a second here!"

Beck got the message. He took a step back. He had to trust that she knew what she was doing.

The trouble for Tori was that she was barely keeping it together herself. Little colorful spots flitted about her vision. She was dizzy. Her eyelids kept drooping. But she had to do something for her friend. It may have all been based on that three-week first-aid course she took in the summer before senior year and reruns of Clooney-era ER episodes, but it was something.

She barely remembered Beck swerving to avoid a coyote that sprang out in front of the car, flipping three times before coming to rest rightside up against a towering Saguaro cactus, or helping him pull an unconscious Cat from the wreckage. But at this point, it didn't matter.

"Beck, I can't...she won't stop bleeding!" Tori cried, pressing the shirt to the wound as hard as she could possibly muster.

Cat's eyes started to flicker and roll back into her head.

"Oh...come on, no!" Tori said to herself in terrified frustration, "c'mon girl, no, no, please no."

"Beck!" she called to him, "Beck, I need you over here! Now! Beck, please!'

Beck sprinted up beside her.

"Hold this," she instructed him, gesturing towards the bloody t-shirt with her head, "hold it as tightly as you can. We gotta stop this bleeding."

"Okay, okay," Beck complied, taking hold of the balled-up t-shirt and compressing it against the side of Cat's head, "you gonna be alright?"

Tori wiped her eyes with her forearm, "I'll...yeah, I'll be fine. My arms are just...my arms are just tired. I need...you just keep pressure on it."

"Is she going to..." Beck trailed off.

Tori didn't even validate the question he was about to ask, "Pressure, Beck. Just keep pressure on the wound."

She wearily staggered a few paces away and collapsed in the middle of the dirt road. She just needed to rest, if only for a moment.

It was supposed to be a simple scenic route through the desert, part of a late-summer road trip from Los Angeles to Houston. College was starting soon – Stanford for Tori, Pepperdine for Beck, and UCLA for Cat – and the trip was to serve as a last hurrah for the trio. Jade was offered, but declined. She had "some things she needed to sort out in Cali" before heading off to Temple University. Robbie was visiting relatives in Denver, nearby his future alma mater of Colorado. And Andre, committed to the University of Oregon, was wrapping up his teaching of a summer music clinic in San Francisco.

The destination of Houston offered one of the largest music festivals in North America. Tori had always talked about going. Beck was onboard immediately. Cat agreed after hearing that the festival featured the largest chicken-shaped balloon west of the Mississippi.

They were some six hours into the journey, almost halfway through the state of Arizona.

"I've heard the sunsets over the desert make for amazing views," Tori said as they neared a highway exit, "all we need to do is..."

She reached for Cat's GPS on the dashboard and plugged in new coordinates.

"There!" she said, satisfied with herself, "this'll let us take the scenic route. And we'll get to Phoenix in about the same amount of time!"

Nobody raised any objections. And, within around a half an hour, the desert sunsets – painted with breathtaking hues of pinks, purples, and yellows - drew their attentions skyward. They had never seen such resplendence, away from the smog-filled haze of Los Angeles.

They did not notice the signs warning them that the roads upon which they travelled were "unmaintained" and untravelled. The road upon which they wrecked was not technically a road at all, but rather an old pathway used by surveyors in pursuit of an ill-planned and unsuccessful mining project. They were likely the first people to travel along its dusty surface in at least two months.

There, lying in the dust and completely sapped of energy, Tori squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She wanted nothing more than to wake up in her bed at home, wrapped snugly in her favorite comforter. She wanted this nightmare to end, a horror that was, as she pondered it, entirely her fault. She wanted someone to tell her that everything was going to be okay.

But at that moment, the only condolences she received from the darkness were crickets and a lone Poorwill whistling into the night. It was this chorus that lulled Tori to sleep, there in the middle of the lonely dirt road.


	2. Chapter II - Gambel's Quail

**CHAPTER II**

**GAMBEL'S QUAIL**

The sun was just cresting the rocky formations along the horizon when Tori opened her eyes, the surrounding desert bathed in an orange glow.

"Ah-ah! Ah-ah!"

The cries of a Gambel's Quail welcomed her into the land of the living.

With great care, she sat up and gave her eyes a chance to adjust to the light. It was then that her vision settled on Beck's form lying beside Cat's.

Almost immediately, perhaps a bit too quickly, Tori sprang to her feet and ran over to them.

"Beck, wake up," she shook his shoulder, "Beck. Beck!"

"Relax, Tor," he said, his eyes still closed, "I'm up."

"And Cat? You fell asleep," she chided him.

"She...stopped bleeding," he started to say, "she's-"

Just then, Cat let out a quiet moan.

"Catarina!" Tori exclaimed, kneeling down next to her, "Catarina Valentine, can you hear me?"

Cat's eyes fluttered open.

"It's Cat," she weakly corrected her, "don't...call me Catarina. You know I...you know I don't like that."

Tori smirked. Even under such dire circumstances, Cat couldn't help but be herself.

"How you feeling?" Tori asked, putting her palm gently on the side of Cat's face.

"Head hurts," Cat replied, "I feel weak. Whe...where are we?"

"If I had to make my best guess," Beck said, looking around, "I'd have to say we're somewhere in Arizona."

Tori flashed him a bemused expression. She wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Cat gingerly turned her head to the side. Her eyes settled on Tori's Stanford shirt, soaked with dried blood.

"Oh no...Tori," she lamented, "...your favorite shirt."

Tori smiled, "it's fine, Cat. Don't worry about it."

"Do you need anything?" Beck asked.

"Is going back to sleep an option?" Cat asked innocently, "it's too early."

Once more, Tori grinned at Cat's guiltlessness.

"I think it's best you stay up," she advised her, "you suffered a pretty nasty head injury."

Cat didn't repond. Her eyes were closed again.

"Cat..." Tori addressed her, "Cat?"

No response.

"Cat!" she said louder.

"Don't yell, Tori," Cat rebuked her, "the sunlight's just hurting my eyes."

"Okay, okay...don't...scare me like that."

Tori stood up, "I'll be right back, Cat. I just need to stretch my legs."

She walked about a hundred yards down the road, taking in the surroundings, but ensuring that she could always see Cat when she turned around. Scores of saguaro cacti basked solemnly in the rising sun. Tangled growths of mesquite bushes held firmly in their shadows. But above all, it was clear that they were alone, stranded deep in the parched Arizona wilderness.

"How are we going to get out of this one?" she thought to herself, running her hand through her hair.

She felt a tap on the shoulder.

"Here," Beck said, holding out a bottle of water, "drink."

It hadn't occurred to Tori how dehydrated she was. She grabbed the bottle and chugged it down in several large gulps.

"We have enough for now," Beck assured her, "I was able to get the trunk open by bashing it with a rock."

"Is our stuff still-?"

Beck nodded, "yeah, whatever what was in the trunk is pretty intact. Really, the only thing that was totalled was the car. Oh. And the GPS."

He held up several smashed pieces of plastic and small circuitboard.

"Of course," she conceded, "so what's the plan now?"

Beck shrugged, "Beats me. Not exactly a situation I've ever been in before."

Tori ran her fingers through her hair again, "Well, we obviously can't just sit here and wait for someone to find us."

She gestured towards Cat with an outstretched palm, "Cat needs medical attention-"

Tori paused, taking notice of Beck clutching at his left flank, just below the armpit.

"You should probably get checked out, too. The way you're standing – looks like a broken rib. Lemme guess: it hurts to breath?

"Wouldn't be holding my side if it didn't," Beck quipped, "how'd you know?"

"Cliff dive into Lake Tahoe two summers ago," she replied, "how much water do we have, anyway?"

"About...ten bottles" Beck answered, wincing as he inhaled.

"Oh good, that should last us-"

She did some quick mental math.

"...around three days. Our phones?"

"No service. Mine's almost out of battery and I assume the same for your's and Cat's."

Tori groaned, "Fantastic."

Beck stared down the dirt pathway behind them.

"Well, what if we follow this road? It should eventually lead us back to Route 60 or...or at least someone who can help us."

"Okay..." Tori pondered, "but what about Cat? She's in no condition to walk through the heat."

"And there's no way I can carry her," Beck added, "not with my side killing me as it is."

"What about food? What do we have?"

"Other than a few bags of chips, you mean?"

"And the last time we spoke to anybody so they have an idea of where to look for us?"

"Was...yesterday afternoon," Beck recounted, "-when I told Jade that we would be reaching Phoenix by 10:00 pm."

A chill ran down Tori's spine, "and we're not expected back in L.A. for another two weeks..."

A few moments of awkward silence ensued as the direness of the situation settled into their minds.

Tori sighed in frustration, "Fantastic! So we can't just wait here for help because Cat needs a doctor. But we can't go very far because she's feeling so weak and we can't carry her. I'm not sure she can even walk right now. And we have little food. And we're gonna run out of water in a few days. And nobody is going to notice we're missing-"

She picked up a small rock and hurled it at a nearby cactus.

"And even if someone knew we were in trouble, the search area only covers the tiny little area of half the state of Arizona, the sixth-largest freaking state in the whole damn country!"

Tears started welling up in her eyes. She grabbed another rock and threw it even harder at the cactus.

Beck tenderly put his arm around her shoulders, "Calm down, Tor. We're gonna figure this out."

He gestured towards Cat with his head, still lying on her back in the middle of the dirt road, "c'mon. Let's go sit with Cat and at least keep her comfortable for now."

Tori said nothing in response. How could he be so mellow in their precarious situation?

"C'mon," he repeated, "we'll think of something."

As the morning turned to afternoon, the temperature began to rise. Beck found a large umbrella in the trunk of the mangled vehicle and opened it over Cat, propping it up in the dirt. Tori kept waiting for something to click in Beck's head – something that would get them out. But it never came. In fact, there was very little conversation that day.

Soon, it became apparent that they were going to spend at least another night in the desert.

"Hey Tor," Beck said as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, "there's some blankets in the blue bag over there. Oh, and there should also be a battery-powered camping lantern in there too."

He pointed towards the open trunk of the car or, at least, what was once the car.

"You go get some sleep. I'll make sure Cat's okay."

"Are you sure?"

Beck nodded, "absolutely."

Tori retrieved a stack of blankets from the bag, giving two to Beck along with the lantern. He spread one of the blankets over Cat – she replied with a weak "thank you".

Finding a spot between some mesquite bushes away from the road, she made sure she was out of earshot of Cat and Beck. She spread one blanket down on the ground and then curled up beneath the second, shivering slightly as the chill of the desert night took the place of the blazing daytime heat.

Her stomach growling in hungry protest and her mind weary from the past forty-eight hours, she burst into tears, crying harder than she ever had in her life. She eventually cried herself to sleep, drifting off into a short period of mental relief.

* * *

Hours later, with the desert around her still under the cover of darkness, she awoke with a start.

At first, she thought she was dreaming. She was hearing a pair of voices. One was Beck's. Another was a man's voice that she didn't recognize.

The voices became clearer.

"We need help," she heard Beck say, "my friend needs help. We got into a wreck and she's hurt pretty badly."

"I'll do what I can," the other voice said, "let me just get my radio from my truck. What the hell you kids doing out here, anyway?"

With the greatest of ease and as quietly as possible, Tori poked her head up from behind the mesquite bush.

An off-white pickup-truck sat in front of Cat and Beck, the two of them illuminated in its headlights. She caught a quick glimpse of the stranger as he walked around the side of the vehicle and leaned into the open driver-side door.

"We have another girl with us," Beck continued, "I'm not sure where she is, though."

The stranger didn't reply.

"Sir?"

"I heard you," the stranger answered, fumbling around inside the cab of his truck, "I'm gonna get you guys in touch with the county sheriff. Lemme just find my two-way..."

Tori's heart jumped for joy. This was serendipity at its finest. She crouched down to fold up the blankets upon which she had been sleeping.

That's when she heard the gunshot.


	3. Chapter III - Elf Owl

**CHAPTER III**

**ELF OWL**

Cat let out a horrified squeal. The bullet had missed her by less than six inches.

From her hiding place behind the tangle of mesquite, Tori watched as the man walked towards Beck, all the while keeping the barrel of his handgun aimed straight at his chest. In his other hand were two coils of rope.

"Tie your girlfriend up," the stranger ordered Beck, extending the ropes towards him and gesturing towards Cat with the gun, "I won't miss next time."

"Hey, c'mon, man, she's hur-" Beck started to say, his mouth immediately going dry.

The stranger was not interested in hearing his appeal.

"I know she's hurt," he growled, "that's why you don't want me tying her up."

Beck pleaded, "c'mon, you don't have to do this."

Once more, the stranger ignored Beck's pleas, "do it."

With little choice, Beck knelt down beside Cat.

"Cat, I'm sorry," he apologized, before gingerly rolling her over onto her stomach and tying her hands behind her back. She whimpered his name.

"Her feet, too," the man instructed, his voice sinisterly calm.

Beck did as he was told. The stranger walked up to Cat and tested the knots to make sure they were tight.

"Good," the stranger approved. Suddenly, he delivered a mighty kick to the side of Cat's head, the same side that had been injured in the wreck, knocking her out completely.

"No!" Beck yelled. A surge of rage temporarily replaced the fear coursing through Beck's body. He had never wanted to genuinely kill someone more than he did at that moment. Cat was so defenseless, so disengaged from the situation. But he knew that making any egregious movements would put both her and himself in even further danger.

The man walked closer to Beck, the gun pointed at his torso, "you said something about someone else being out here...where is she?"

Beck realized he wasn't sure where Tori had decided to lie down for the night. For a split-second, he thought about turning and sprinting into the darkness while yelling for Tori to run, but he knew that he couldn't leave Cat behind, helpless and alone.

"I don't know."

The man glowered, taking a step closer to Beck, "where is she? Where is the other girl?"

He took another step closer to him, "don't make this difficult. Either tell me-"

The stranger took another step forward, the gun almost touching Beck's chest, directly over his heart, "or this gets ugly."

Tori clamped down on her bottom lip. She weighed her own options. For one, she could, herself, quietly steal away into the night. Their assailant hadn't seen her and the cacophony of crickets was enough to conceal her movements.

"No, no," she immediately admonished herself, "I can't just abandon my friends."

She could try to sneak up behind the stranger and attack him. After all, she had taken several years of martial arts classes for theater.

But once more, the voice inside her head drew her back into reason, "the only weapon we were taught to actually defend against were knives. They always told us just to comply when faced with a gun."

It was the third option that she dreaded the most, though she knew that it was, in all reality, her only option.

She swallowed, took a deep breath – perhaps the deepest breath she had ever taken, and emerged from behind the mesquite onto the dirt road.

"There," Beck said, pointing the man in Tori's direction.

As soon as the stranger turned his head, Beck lunged and grabbed for the gun. A giant cloud of dust kicked up in the beam of the truck's headlights.

"Tori! You gotta get o-"

The words had barely left Beck's mouth before the man was able to wrest the gun from his grasp. With a mighty crack, he pummeled Beck across the side of his head with the gun's handle, knocking him to the ground unconscious.

Then the stranger turned his attention to Tori.

"You stay right there, Miss," he warned, now pointing the gun at her. He walked backwards and blindly reached through the open driver's side window of the truck, producing another two coils of rope.

"Tie him up," he snarled, "that was a very stupid thing he just did."

Having no other choice, Tori squatted down next to Beck's torpid form, wrapping the rope around his wrists and ankles. The stranger walked up and again pulled on the knots.

With both Cat and Beck unresponsive on the dirt, it was, for all intents and purposes, just Tori and the man facing each other in the desert night.

"Turn around" he said to her, jerking the gun in a circular motion.

"Please...please, I have—I'm-"

"Turn around," he repeated, her begging falling on deaf ears.

Out of options, she did as she was told. The man produced yet another length of rope – this time from the bed of his truck. He pulled both of her arms around her back and secured the rope around them.

"I'm not going to tie up your ankles," the man said.

He shoved the gun into her breastbone.

"Get in the truck. Now. Sweetheart."

She hesitated. She recalled once reading a book that advised never to get into a car if approached by a gunman. "Instead," the book said, "turn and run, making as much noise as humanly possible to alert others." The problem was that the book was written for a different time and place. She had injured friends that she could not leave behind. And certainly nobody would hear her cries. Besides, while adrenaline was a hell of thing, over twenty-four hours of nothing but a handful of potato chips had left her body weak and languid.

From high atop a distant cactus, an Elf Owl cackled with indifference. As Tori was led around the back of the truck, she turned around just in time to see the stranger raising a long and skinny piece of metal over his head.

It was the last thing she remembered from that night.


	4. Chapter IV - Verdin

_Thank you for all of the kind words! I realize that this is a rather intense fanfic, but I am so grateful for those of you that have taken the time to read it thus far. As always, please leave me a review afterwards – they really do help me figure out what's working and what's not! _

**CHAPTER IV**

**VERDIN**

"Bang!"

Tori was jostled awake by a loud clanging noise.

Her eyes opened to blackness. She was sitting semi-upright, her face pressed up against a cold and hard wall. The air around her was cool and damp, filled with the distinctive musty odor of mildew. There was a persistent mechanical buzzing sound, occasionally broken by the rushing of air from aloft. From somewhere outside of the walls, she heard the high-pitched beeping of a songbird – the bouncing song of a Verdin.

As she sat up, she heard the sound of metal sliding against metal. She realized that her right wrist was affixed to the concrete surface behind her as though she was raising her hand to ask a question. Shackles attached to a metal loop mounted on the wall made it so that she could not move her right arm at all. But she found that she was able to move her entire left arm with relative freedom. Her left wrist was also shackled, attached to a long chain secured to pipes running overhead.

Instinctively, she pulled as hard as she could in an attempt to free herself. But the shackles and chains were thick and heavy; the pipes were firmly stuck in place. In any case, she did not have the strength – physical or mental – to do much more.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw just enough of Cat's lifeless form a few feet away from her. The petite redhead sat with her back up against the wall, her head slumped forward, her right arm raised slightly above her head. It appeared as though she was chained up in the same manner as Tori.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything, Tori heard a door open and footsteps descending creaky wooden stairs. There was the click of a pull-chain, flooding half of the dark basement with light.

In front of her stood a boy, roughly around her age. He appeared tidy and put-together. He wore a long-sleeve t-shirt rolled up at the sleeves, showing off forearms that had clearly seen at least some time in the gym. All in all, he was actually good-looking – the kind of guy who would have warranted a second look if Tori had passed him on the street in L.A. But being chained up against her will in a dark basement four-hundred miles away from home hardly warranted time for those sorts of thoughts.

He knelt down in front of her. She cowered against the wall.

"Sorry about that," he said to her, his tone kind and gentle, "about the noise, I mean."

She stared back at him in defiant silence, her eyes full of suspicion and fear.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he said assuredly, "I promise."

Still, Tori did not speak. She did her best to give him the fiercest expression that she could muster.

The boy sensed her defensiveness.

"Hang on," he said, "I'll be right back."

He stood and sprinted up the basement steps. Tori could hear footsteps creaking about the floorboards above her.

After a few minutes, she heard the basement door open again. The boy walked down the stairs, carrying several bottles of water and foil packets in his arms.

"Here," he offered, crouching down and placing the water in front of her. He opened one of the foil packets, revealing a several hot slices of roast beef, and set it down next to the water.

"It's beef," he explained, "I just nuked it in the microwave, but it'll do."

Tori continued to stare at him with her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Just...eat. You're all pale and you look like you haven't eaten in a while."

He gestured towards the food and water, "I swear, I'm not trying to hurt you."

Finding the courage from somewhere she didn't know existed, Tori finally spoke, "you understand why I have a hard time trusting you, right?"

The boy sighed, "I know. I get that. But...okay, here..."

He tore off a tiny corner of a roast beef slice and popped it into his mouth.

"There," he said after he swallowed, "nothing wrong with it."

The food _did _smell delicious. Perhaps it was Tori's stomach making executive decisions for her brain, but she eventually reached out with her left hand, ripped off a piece of the meat, and shoveled it into her mouth. Then, she took another piece. And then another. Before long, she had eaten the whole portion.

"See?" the boy remarked, "you're not going blind or anything."

Tori lowered the barrier just slightly, "...thank you."

The boy sat down on the floor in front of her, "what's your name?"

"Tori," she replied quietly, "my name is Tori."

He gestured towards Cat, "and her?"

"That's Cat," Tori said, taking several gulps of water with her eyes closed, the chain rattling as she lifted her arm.

"I'm Ryan," he introduced himself, "it's...well, I would say it's nice to meet you, but...

He paused, "...you shouldn't be here."

She nodded.

Just then, she suddenly remembered Beck.

"Beck..." she said softly to herself.

"What?"

"Our other friend. Is—is there anybody else here?"

Ryan shook his head, "nope. Nobody else besides us."

He brushed aside a few strands of hair from her face, "I'm so sorry about this, Tori," he apologized, "I'm so sorry."

"You're not like him, are you?"

He shook his head.

"No. Not at all. He's my uncle and he's been..."

He paused. It was clear that even away of his uncle's presence, he was fearful to put the words together, "...he's been doing this for a long time."

Tori finished off the bottle of water, "doing what?"

"Bringing..." he started to say, "...bringing gir-"

He paused again, trying to find a soft landing for his words, "-bringing people home. People that he finds out in the desert."

Tori asked a question that she knew she shouldn't, "and what happens to them?"

Ryan shifted uncomfortably, "I'm...not..."

He sighed deeply and swallowed, "they...just...disappear."

Tori couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was as though she had fallen through reality and landed in the middle of a movie – a bad movie, the sort of movie that she would have curled up and watched with the gang on a Friday night.

"Where is he – your uncle?" she questioned.

"He's at work...well, it's part-time work. He's a retired Maricopa County Sheriff."

Once more, he paused, "...but sometimes, he would people back from work, too."

Tears started to form in the corners of Tori's eyes.

"Please," she cried, "please let us go...please..."

Ryan gave her a most sympathetic expression, "I wish I could, Tori. But I only have the key for one of the shackles that go around your right wrists. I have no idea where he keeps the key for the other ones. Which reminds me-"

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and produced a small brass key. He unlocked the lock holding the shackles together on Tori's right wrist. Free from their constraints for the moment, Tori swiveled her hand around and flexed her fingers. She wiped away the tears from her cheeks.

"I'm supposed to do that once a day," he explained, "so you can reach the bathroom."

He stood up and flicked on a light-switch just above Tori's head. A pale yellow light illuminated a small and dingy cubicle with a toilet and sink just to the left of where Cat was chained to the pipes.

"I'm...fine for now," Tori obliged, "thanks."

Ryan scooted over to Cat on his knees, unlocking the shackles around her right wrist. He put his hand around the back of her head and delicately lowered her down so that she was laying on her side.

"That'll be more comfortable for her," he said. He gently placed two fingers on the side of her neck and listened.

"She's still alive, just unconscious" he confirmed, "my uncle said that he wasn't sure the redhead was going to make it. But she's alive."

He turned back to Tori. This whole time, his face had been filled with quiet remorse.

"You're wondering why I haven't told anybody about all of this," he said.

"Yeah. Yeah, that would be a pretty accurate assessment."

She smirked, pausing to wipe away a few tears from her face, "if I'm being honest, Ryan, part of me kinda wants to wrap this chain around your neck."

He smiled, "that's fair, but then you'd be stuck with my uncle. And believe me, he's not nearly as nice."

The moment of lightheartedness quickly died down.

"Why haven't you told anybody?" Tori implored, "tell the police, tell someone at school, tell...family? You must have family that isn't in favor of kidnapping people."

Ryan sighed and took a seat next to her, leaning his head back on the wall, "he's the only family I have left, Tori. How do you think I ended up here?"

"How long have you been living with him?"

"For the last eight years. My parents died in a car accident when I was nine. They both lost their parents when they were young. My mom didn't have any siblings. My dad only had one and...well, he never spoke to this brother...for obvious reasons."

It was Tori's turn to look at him with an expression of compassion, "I'm sorry. So you've been living with...with this...for about half of your life."

"Yeah," Ryan confirmed, "yeah, he's been a monster for as long as I can remember. Why do you think I wear long-sleeve shirts in the Arizona summer?"

He rolled up his left sleeve to reveal an upper arm covered with burn scars.

"These were from those first few years," he explained, "but then I started working out when I was in my early teens. I grew taller. Now, at the very least, he doesn't do that anymore..."

He swallowed. Tori filled in his unsaid words, "...not...as often, anyway."

"Don't think that I haven't told people," he continued, staring off into the distance without looking at her, "when I first learned about what my uncle was doing, I told my fifth grade teacher. She didn't believe me. I told my teachers in middle school. They never did anything about it. And when I brought it up a couple of months ago in my senior year of high school, I earned myself weekly trips to the guidance office and five after-school detentions for terroristic thoughts and expressions."

For the first time in a long time, Tori couldn't find the right words to say.

"So eventually," Ryan finished, "eventually, I just stopped trying."

"What about the police?"

Ryan sighed, "He's...one of them. Or, he used to be, anyway. The police think he's a pillar of the community. There's just no way they would ever buy that mild-mannered former Sheriff Billsworth, recipient of dozens of community and charity awards, has been kidnapping people, keeping them locked up in his basement, and then-"

He stopped. Tori didn't need to hear about the rest.

"Does he..." she began to ask, "does he...are Cat and I going to be...is he going ra-"

Ryan cut her off, "-no. No no. That much I can say for sure. He's never done that. It's not what he's...into. He-"

Just then, the sound of a door opening and closing came from the floor above them.

"Dammit," he said, "he's home early."

He hastily re-shackled Tori's right arm to the wall, "I'll be back down as soon as he leaves for work tomorrow morning. Promise."

As he climbed the stairs out of the basement, he turned and looked back at Tori, his eyes full of dread and sadness.

"I'm sorry..." he repeated, before turning and walking through the basement door.


	5. Chapter V - Heermann's Gull

**CHAPTER V**

**HEERMANN'S GULL**

"Aow, aow, aow!"

The Heermann's Gulls were up early that morning, chattering amongst themselves in their nasally language. But they hadn't beaten Jade – she awoke around 4:00AM to watch an airing of "Wrong Turn" on the Slasher channel. Granted, it was the censored-for-tv version, but it was better than nothing.

It was a treat to have the Santa Monica beach-house to herself for however long she wanted, the one reward of being somewhat pleasant to her dad's new wife. She had to admit that the music festival in Houston _did _sound like fun – even if it meant being in the car with Tori Vega for the better part of forty-hours round-trip And the city featured Cinemark Tinseltown 17, a theater allegedly haunted by the ghosts of several unfortunate souls who perished in a fire that broke out in the trailer park that occupied the grounds upon which the Cinemark now stood.

But spectres and music aside, she felt that she needed some Jade time. She was soon due to start classes at Temple University, some three thousand miles away in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She had never been further east than Vegas in her entire life.

There was that conversation with her dad, the one where she informed him that she had turned down an acceptance from Juilliard – one of the most the most prestigious schools of performing arts on the entire planet.

"Temple University?" Mr. West asked incredulously, "the school where you can't go more than two blocks off campus without getting mugged? Why would you ever choose that over a school like Juilliard?"

But that edginess, that metropolitan lack of pretentiousness – that's what attracted Jade to Temple in the first place.

During a lunch period late in her junior year, Beck sat down and went through a large pile of letters from schools that had expressed interest in Jade for their fine arts programs.

"Rhode Island?" he began at the top of the list.

"Rhode Island has a university?" she reciprocated.

"University of Miami?"

"If I wanted to see vapid suburbanite girls in bikinis taking selfies with their tongues out and making sorority hand-signs before posting them on Instagram where they get five hundred likes and comments spelling 'yes' with too many 'A's' and 'S's' and ending in flame emojis, I could just go to USC."

Beck sighed and widened his eyes. He didn't even bother to read off the next school, flipping past it, "ohhh-kay...so USC is out, too..."

He continued, "Syracuse?"

"Cold. And orange."

"Savannah College of Arts and Design?"

"Hot. And humid. And ew, Georgia? C'mon, dude, might as well just skip college and become a crazy old lady sitting on the porch with a bloodhound and a banjo."

"Jade, aren't you just stereotyp-?"

She glared at him.

"Nevermind. Carnegie Mellon?"

Jade gagged, "even the name sounds like rich-douchebag."

"Columbia?"

She gagged again, "sounds like rich Ivy-League-douchebag."

It was, admittedly, difficult for Jade to turn down Juilliard. But upon visiting Temple, she fell in love. It was her choice. And she was more than happy with it. Still, the prospect of moving across the country, away from her friends, into an environment that she knew only from a brief tour and the internet – it was daunting.

She just needed this week to calm her nerves. Though when she checked her phone and saw no messages from Beck, the apprehension started to creep its way back in once more.

Beck assured her that he would text when he, Cat, and Tori reached their hotel in Phoenix. That was over seventy-two hours ago. Beck had a number of hang-ups, but if there was one thing for which she could always rely on him, it was to follow through on assurances. The previous morning, she had sent him a short message:

_Hey did you get to Phoenix okay?_

Nothing. How hard was it to just give a simple "yup" or "yes we did"? Something. Anything.

She didn't want to call him. She didn't want to come off as needy. They hadn't been an item for a while, but she felt that she still held the upper-hand in the post-relationship dynamics. It wasn't a position she was interested in losing anytime soon.

Still, it was strange that she hadn't heard a single word from him or Cat or Tori, for that matter. She figured that she was worrying too much. It made her a little sick to her stomach that she found herself worrying about Tori at all. But she convinced herself that it was all for naught. They were probably living it up in Houston at that moment and had just forgotten to let her know.

Just then, her phone rang. It was from a number that she didn't recognize – a 520-number. She let it go. She wasn't in the mood to hear a robo-call asking if she was satisfied with her phone plan. Her phone went silent after five rings.

She went into the bedroom to get changed. As she pulled on a pair of opaque black leggings and admired her figure in the full-length mirror, she heard her phone chime again from the kitchen.

"Tenacious, aren't you?" she said to herself, ignoring the cheerful bell-tones.

"Beep!"

Her phone chirped again to let her know that she had missed another call. Then, almost immediately, it rang again.

"Really?" she said to no one, "take a hint".

Annoyed, she walked over to her phone and picked it up.

"Look," she said pointedly, "I'm not sure how you got this number, but I-"

"Is this Miss Jade West?" a man's voice said.

Jade sat down at the kitchen table, sliding aside some bags of snacks that she had bought the previous afternoon.

"It is...who's speaking?"

"My name is Detective Ambrose, I'm with the Maricopa County Sheriff's office."

Jade had never heard of a Maricopa County. This felt like a rouse.

"Maricopa County, really, dude?" she quipped, "next time, go with Glasscock County or Dauphin County. At least those are believable."

"Miss West-"

"Or hey! How about going all-in with Real County?" Jade continued.

"Miss West, please," Detective Ambrose cut her off, "do you know a Mr. Beck Oliver?"

That stopped Jade in her tracks.

"...I do," she responded, dropping the playful attitude, "how do you know him?"

"Mr. Oliver was found unconscious along Route 60 near Aguila, Arizona by a passing motorist earlier this morning," Detective Ambrose said.

Jade's heart dropped. For a moment, she couldn't find the words to respond.

"Miss West? Are you there?"

"Yeah," she said finally, clearing her throat, "yeah, I am. Uh..."

"-now, I just wanted to let you know that he's been taken to a hospital in Phoenix. The last update we received, he was in stable condition."

"Well, do you know anything else about how he's doing? Is he hurt? Is he injured?"

"Miss West, I understand that this is heavy news, but all we know at this time is that Mr. Oliver had a couple of broken ribs, a concussion, and was suffering from moderate exhaustion and dehydration."

Dozens of questions flooded Jade's mind.

"How did you find me?" she asked, "...how did you get my number?"

"Mr. Oliver had a scrap of paper in his wallet with your name and number scrawled across it...we didn't have any other contact information besides that and he was still unconscious by the time he reached the emergency room."

Jade had forgotten all about that piece of paper. She had given it to Beck years ago as his "emergency contact".

"Can you think of any reason why Mr. Oliver would have been travelling through or visiting my county?"

Jade sighed.

"Yeah...yeah, we...uh," she said, putting her hand to her forehead, "I mean, Beck was with two of our other friends. They were travelling to Houston for a music festival."

No response from the other end of the line. Jade could faintly hear what sounded like the detective speaking to someone near him, "...Larry...Larry, did we...yeah, she says there are two others...did we find any...yeah, two others..."

Jade piped up, "uh...detective?"

Detective Ambrose spoke into the phone again, "yes, sorry about that, Miss West. I'm gonna put you on with another detective, okay? We have some questions for you – do you have time?"

"Yeah...yeah of course." In a clearer state of mind, she would have considered calling her dad and getting an attorney. But she was in anything but a clear state of mind.

Another voice entered the conversation. This voice sounded deeper and older.

"Morning, Miss West," the voice introduced itself, "my name is Detective Robinson. How are you?"

"Would be better if someone would explain to me what's going on," Jade replied curtly.

"We're trying to figure that out, Miss West," Detective Robinson encouraged her, "now you said that

there were two others with Mr. Oliver?"

"Yeah," Jade confirmed, "yeah, two other girls. The first is na-"

Once more, she was interrupted by the sound of the detective talking to someone in the background. She could just barely make out what was being said.

"Where?" she heard Detective Robinson ask, "Yes, I'm talking to her now...are we sure it's-"

Jade simply listened. She was able to glean the words "same", "highway", and "bleeding".

Then she heard the words "red hair".


	6. Chapter VI - Turkey Vulture

**CHAPTER VI**

**TURKEY VULTURE**

It was the longest night of Tori Vega's life.

The worst instance wasn't even when Ryan's uncle descended into the basement and, for the better part of two hours, burned her arms with lit cigarettes, all the while describing the gruesome and graphic things he had planned for her.

No. Those were all horrible things that Tori would never be able to forget. But the most nightmarish moment came when he unshackled Cat – still completely unconscious – and carried her upstairs.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Wait! Tell me where you're taking her! she loudly demanded, "tell me where you're taking her!"

He ignored her.

She heard the creaking footsteps along the floorboards, a door, and then the sound of a car starting and driving away. In the ensuing and deafening silence, she let loose, screaming in pure agony at the top of her lungs. She didn't care if he heard her. As far as she was concerned, she had just seen her best friend for the very last time.

"Oh God, Tori," Ryan said the next morning as he walked down the basement steps and noticed the burns covering her arms, "what did he do to you?"

"Where is Cat?" Tori demanded, breathing heavily, her tone full of panic and desperation, "Didn't you hear me screaming last night? Where is my friend? What did he do with her?"

Ryan crouched down in front of her, unlocking the shackle around her right wrist.

"Ryan!" Tori persisted, becoming more despondent by the second, "Ryan, where is she? I swear to Christ, if he hurts her, I'm going to k-"

"-he left her by the side of Route 60 this morning," he answered coolly, "she was alive when he let her go."

Tori looked at him, "he...he let her go? But why?"

Ryan shrugged, "I don't know. He's never done that before."

For just a moment, Tori felt a massive wave of relief. But as Ryan's answer sunk in deeper, it became clear how bleak her own future was.

"My uncle is a complicated person," he explained.

Tori raised her eyebrows, "yeah, you think?"

"For as abusive and awful as he has been to me, there are things that he's always done with...with care and something approaching decency. Like, for instance, he's always made sure that I've had enough to eat...always took me to a doctor when I hurt myself or felt sick..."

He shifted his gaze to her and gestured with a sweeping motion, stopping at the chains and shackles that held Tori's left arm to the pipes, "and then there's...this."

Ryan let out a deep sigh, "maybe this was just a good day."

Tori slumped against the wall, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes.

"Hey," Ryan said supportively, "I'm gonna do my best to get you out of here."

She looked at him, "why me? What makes me any different or more worthy of your time than the other people he's done this to?"

"I never actually talked to any of the other people he brought home," he admitted, "I...I just thought if I didn't talk to them, I wouldn't have to think about how badly I felt."

She said nothing in response.

"Besides," he continued, "I think he messed up this time."

"How?"

"All the people he's done this to before...every one I can remember...they were migrants, people coming north from Mexico and Central America. If they disappeared, nobody asked any questions. But you...Cat...you're different."

"They're still human, Ryan," Tori censured him, "that doesn't make any of this okay. They just want a better life for themselves and their families."

Ryan shook his head, "no, that's not what I meant. It's horrible any way you slice it. But you guys obviously have people who will notice that you're missing, people who can actually do something about it."

Tori exhaled, "I wish that was true. But...nobody is gonna notice that we're missing for at least another week and a half."

She closed her eyes again. Ryan sat down in front of her.

"Hey. What are your plans when you get out of here?" he asked.

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"What?"

"Your plans," he prompted, "when this whole thing ends and you're able to go back to...wherever you call home."

She stared back at him in silence. It was a pretty paltry attempt to make her feel better.

"Tori Vega," he continued, "stop looking at me like a frightened deer and tell me what your plans are for when you get out of here."

She rolled her eyes, "well...I'm set to start at Stanford University later this month."

"There you go," Ryan encouraged her, "good for you. I'm starting at Michigan State in a couple of weeks, myself."

Tori cracked a smile, "because that's totally not a party school..."

"Well, I'm sorry. We can't all be little-miss-pefect and go to Stanford," he ribbed.

She laughed, the first time she had laughed since this whole ordeal had begun.

"What do you want to do at Michigan State?" she said.

"I'm going pre-med. I already have connections with some admissions boards at a few med schools around the country. All I need to do is keep my GPA up, score well on the MCATs, and I should be good."

"And you get on me for being Miss Perfect..." she joked.

Tori's face suddenly drew a serious expression.

"You chose Michigan State to get away from this place, didn't you? To get as far away from this place as you could..."

He assented.

"As soon as I'm gone, I'm going to tell the police everything. I don't care if they believe me or not. I won't be living under his roof anymore. He won't be able to retaliate against me."

Ryan paused, realizing how unfair that was to her.

"I...I'm sorry, Tori," he apologized, "I want to say something now. But...my uncle...he'll-"

He swallowed hard.

"-he'll kill me if he finds out that I exposed him."

Tori went silent again, unsure of how to reply. Part of her still didn't understand his reasoning. But the other part of her could sense the internal conflict raging on inside of his head. ''

"You hungry?" he asked, standing up.

"I could eat," she answered, perking up slightly, "you don't happen to have a full-course brunch up there, do you?"

He smiled,"Everything besides the mimosas. Seriously, though, I have some waffles and bacon that I just made."

"That...actually sounds incredible right now."

"You got it," Ryan said as he turned and jogged back up the basement steps.

She sat back against the wall. There were still a number of questions she had for Ryan, but they were all questions that she knew that she shouldn't ask.

"How long does he wait until he does it?"

"How does he do it?"

"Is it quick? Is it painless?"

He had given her the soft explanation, that people just "disappeared", but she was certain that he knew the real answers. He had to know. How could he not?

But that, she decided, was all for later.

As her eyes scanned around the room, she noticed a painting that she had never noticed before, leaning up against the water heater. It was a work by Wyeth – she recognized it from an art class she had taken during her sophomore year. In the scene, a trio of Turkey Vultures soared high above a distant Pennsylvania farmhouse and landscape.

She stared at the artwork. It reminded her of the vultures that she regularly saw riding the thermals above the L.A. Freeway on those carefree weekends when she and the gang would go on adventures.

"You look like you have something to say," Ryan's voice said from the top of the steps and carrying a plate with waffles and several rashers of bacon.

For a second, Tori considered launching into the questioning. But she thought better of it. It was time to eat. Nothing got in the way of that.

As she felt her blood sugar rising with the sudden rush of nourishment, her brain settled on a question that she knew was too stupid ask but still one that she pondered as she wolfed down the good, solid food: "who the hell has a basement in Arizona, anyway?"


	7. Chapter VII - Anna's Hummingbird

**CHAPTER VII**

**ANNA'S HUMMINGBIRD**

The odor of cleaning solution awoke Cat from her deep sleep, there in that hospital room.

The walls around her were plain and sterile. The floor was a smooth and unassuming light gray. On the end table to her left was a vase of yellow flowers. A male Anna's Hummingbird briefly hovered in front of the window, its gorget shimmering a rosy-red color not dissimilar from Cat's hair. She didn't notice.

Every now and again, she would see the impression of a figure walk across the frosted glass on the hallway-side of the suite.

"Dr. McVoy to ICU," a voice announced from a distant intercom, "Dr. McVoy to the ICU."

She tried to sit up, but the sudden rush of dizziness forced her back down. The constant "boop-beep" tone that sounded off every ten seconds from whatever machine to which they had her attached wasn't helping.

Just then, a nurse dressed in periwinkle blue scrubs walked into the room, a man and a woman that Cat did not recognize in tow. Both wore open suit jackets with white button-up shirts tucked into well-pressed dress pants. Each had the same official-looking badge clipped onto their belts. They were around the same age – somewhere in their early-50's. The man's face weathered but not overtly wrinkled and his hair graying. The woman was pretty, her skin naturally tan, her curled brown hair shoulder-length.

"Here she is," the nurse addressed the two strangers.

"Can we talk to her?" the man asked the nurse, "time is of the essence while it's still fresh in her memory."

"You can try," the nurse replied, "just, please, keep it short and take it easy on her."

"Thank you, Miss Palermo," the woman obliged.

"You said her name was Cat?" the man said to the nurse as she turned to leave the room. His voice was deep and leathery, the results of a chronic chain-smoking habit.

"That's what her chart says," the nurse replied from the doorway, "I assume it's a nickname of some sort. You folks page me if you need anything."

She closed the door behind her and hurried off down the hallway.

The pair now turned its attention to Cat. The woman took the lead.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" she asked Cat, putting her hands up on the low bedside railing.

"I'm...I..." Cat shuttered, her voice fragile and broken.

"It's okay, it's okay," the woman soothed her, "my name is Detective Linda Fields."

She gestured towards the man standing behind her, "and this is my partner, Detective Gary Sickler."

Detective Fields crouched down next to the bed.

"We know you've been through a lot, but we just want to find out what happened to you."

Cat exhaled.

Detective Sickler spoke up, "We understand that you're recovering. It's just important that we get as much as we can from what you remember. Can we ask you some questions?"

She dipped her chin in confimation. She just could not seem to summon that constant store of energy that lent itself to her trademark perkiness.

"Cat," Detective Fields began, looking directly into her eyes with a symapthetic expression, "where are you from?"

"West...Hollywood," Cat squeaked.

"West Hollywood, that's in California, right? Near Los Angeles?"

Cat nodded again. Fields smiled.

"You ever been to Nozu? The sushi place?"

The reference to one of her favorite hometown restaurants brought a weak smile to Cat's own face. She nodded again. Detective Sickler gave his partner a side-eyed expression from behind her back. Fields seemed to sense his disapproval.

"He's not a fan of L.A.," she said to Cat, gesturing towards her partner. Sickler shook his head – he couldn't help but agree with her assessment.

A serious tone quickly washed back over the room.

"Cat, can you tell us how you ended up here in Arizona?"

"There was a festival..." Cat meekly explained, "a...music festival...in Houston..."

"So you were travelling through Arizona on the way to a music festival in Houston?"

Cat confirmed her question.

"Were there other people with you, Cat?"

She exhaled again.

"Yes...two...there were two of my friends..."

The gears started churning in Cat's head, "hey...where are they...my friends, I mean?

Fields didn't answer immediately.

"Uh...before...before we talk about that," she diverted, "what are your friends' names?"

"Beck...and Tori," Cat responded.

Detective Fields turned and looked at her partner. Her expression was one of slight disturbance.

"Hey Cat," Sickler said, stepping forward towards her, "tell you what: I need to talk to Detective Fields for just a moment outside. We'll be right back, okay?"

Cat nodded yet again.

The detectives waited until they were in the hallway and the door to the room was closed before they began their conversation.

"Beck," Fields said to Sickler, "that's the guy they found along the same stretch of highway earlier this morning, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Beck Oliver," Detective Sickler confirmed, "Detective Robinson was actually on the phone with a contact of his when the call came in about our girl in there."

"Did we get any information from her – that contact?"

"Yeah, yeah, she gave us their names. Larry's currently in the process of connecting with their families."

"Has anybody been able to get in touch with this Tori?"

"Not as far I know," Sickler reciprocated, "we're not even sure if she's a victim or if she's responsible for all of this. Larry's going to get back to me as soon as he gets some more solid info."

Fields sighed deeply, "well, let's get back in there and see what else Cat can tell us."

They re-entered the room. Detective Fields pulled up a chair next to Cat's bed and sat down. She leaned in towards her.

"Okay, dear," she addressed Cat, "are you okay to answer a few more questions?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember anything – anything at all – about the time immediately before waking up here?"

Cat closed her eyes, digging through her brain to the best of her abilities. There were no overarching memories, just little bits and pieces of things that she heard and saw.

"We...were in the desert..." she recounted, "my head...my head was bleeding..."

"Your head was bleeding? When?"

"Before," she answered, "Tori was taking care of me."

Behind Fields, the scratching of a pen against paper could be heard as Sickler wrote in a leather-bound legal pad.

"Tori was taking care of you? What was she doing?"

"She was trying to stop the blood...she was using her favorite shirt."

"Where was Beck during all of this?"

"He...was...I...I don't remember."

"That's okay, Cat," Fields encouraged her, "You're doing so well. So let me just circle back for a second. Do you remember why you were bleeding in the middle of the desert?"

Once again, Cat closed her eyes and sifted through her mind, "there was a crash...the car was...it crashed."

"In the desert?"

"Yes."

"So the car crashed and you were hurt? And Tori was trying to help you?"

"I...yeah...yeah, she was trying to help me."

Detective Fields smiled supportively, "You're doing great, Cat. What else do you remember?"

Cat's eyes suddenly widened.

"...there was...we thought he was there to help us..."

Her statement caused Sickler to look up from his pad.

"Who, Cat?" Detective Fields continued the questioning, "who did you think was there to help you? Beck?"

Tears started to form in Cat's eyes, "no...someone else...he...shot at me...he had a gun..."

Detective Sickler piped up, "Do you know who he was? The person who shot at you?"

"No...no...he..."

She paused, her breathing becoming stressed, "he...took us...there were chains...he...burned her...she was screaming..."

Fields opened her mouth to ask a follow up, but it all became too much for Cat . She started to sob.

The detective stood up and gave her a hug. Cat squeezed back.

"You're safe now, Cat," Fields consoled her, "I promise, you're safe."

Detective Sickler stood in silence, almost resigned. Being face-to-face with victims, especially younger victims, of horrific experiences that would break even the most stoic of individuals – it was something to which he had never become accustomed.

The new sense of urgency hit the two detectives as soon as they left Cat's hospital room and traversed the hallway towards the bank of elevators.

"Someone has this girl," Detective Fields said to her partner as they walked, "this is an all-hands-on-deck situation. Also, make sure that someone contacts Cat's family and tells her that she's here."

"Just got a message from Robinson – he was able to get in touch with her folks," Sickler added, "her name is Tori Vega – 5'5", about a hundred and ten pounds. They're sending him a recent picture of her as we speak."

"Good. I want an aerial search of the area around where Beck and Cat were found. If we find the wreckage, there might be something there we can use."

Before long, they reached their car in the hospital's parking garage.

"God help us, Gary," Fields said, shaking her head, "something horrible happened to those kids. We have to find her."

Detective Sickler didn't respond. He knew that, more often than not, cases like this didn't have that happy ending.

Fields knew that, too.


	8. Chapter VIII - Lesser Goldfinch

**CHAPTER VIII **

**LESSER GOLDFINCH**

The story started as a trickle on the local Phoenix-area news affiliates that evening.

**From KSAZ-TV | FOX 10**: _"Our lead story this evening is a bizarre one: Phoenix police are asking for the public's help in locating 18-year old L.A. native Tori Vega, who reportedly went missing after being abducted following a car accident deep in the desert. Police are telling FOX 10 tonight that Vega and her two friends, identified as 18-year old Beck Oliver and 18-year old Catarina Valentine, likely encountered an individual who initially offered the teens assistance. Police then say that the individual turned on them, incapacitating both Oliver and Valentine – both of whom were found injured but alive along Route 60 hours apart this morning. Vega's current whereabouts are unknown, but police believe that she was abducted at gunpoint. Police will not comment on the reasoning for the release of the other two teenagers. _

Then, as Tori's name worked its way downstream, other local networks devoted time to coverage.

**From WTNH-TV | ABC 8 in New Haven Connecticut**: _"It is quickly becoming the largest search in Arizona state history." _

**From WKYC-TV | NBC 3 in Cleveland, Ohio**: _"Several groups of volunteers from the Cleveland area are arranging to fly to down to Phoenix tomorrow to help aid in the search for the missing girl." _

**From WKRG-TV | CBS 5 in Mobile, Alabama**: _"In a statement earlier today, Reverend Mark Brown of Southbrook Methodist Church expressed the prayers of his wife, children, and the entire congregation towards the families of these three young people. He went to say that he and the congregation also pray for Miss Vega's safe return home." _

Finally, the major news networks picked up on the trail.

CNN, FOX News, MSNBC – the mighty cable news trio all pre-empted their coverage of the powerful hurricane expected to make landfall on Baja California to run rolls of search teams fanned out across the desert and talk to supposed "experts" about the investigation and manhunt for the responsible party.

Then, the internet grabbed a piece of the pie. Tori's name, along with the "Phoenix Three", was trending on just about every social media service available.

By the mid-morning the next day, the story had even reached Pennsylvania Avenue and the White House.

"_On behalf of the President, the Vice President, our families, and the entirety of the United States government, we express our most heartfelt thoughts and prayers that Miss Tori Vega will be found and returned home safely..." _

In her Santa Monica beach-house, Jade watched the White House spokesman deliver the cookie-cutter statement.

She couldn't help but make a wisecrack out loud to nobody, "Hey, look, Tori! You finally made it on TV!"

It was a horrible thing to say. Jade knew that. But she truly didn't know how to deal with her deeply-seeded anxiety about Tori. Though they had grown slightly closer over the years, Tori still annoyed her. She was, in Jade's view, overrated and overblown. And doing things like ruining her prom night by drenching her tight-fitting white dress with water or giving her coffee that she found in the garbage was pure entertainment.

But abducted at gunpoint? Or possibly dead? That was too far – even for her.

Her phone buzzed. She was never really in the mood to talk to anybody, but now was a prime example.

Still, out of curiosity, she peeked at her screen: 1 NEW MESSAGE – ANDRE.

She swiped and opened it.

_You, me, and Robbie are going to Arizona. _

_If I leave San Fran now, I can be at your place by around 3:00pm. _

_Robbie is flying into Tucson from Denver and will meet us in Phoenix. _

_I'm not asking, Jade. You don't have a choice. _

_We have to do something for her. _

_And Cat and Beck._

Jade rolled her eyes, "ugh, but Arizona smells funny. And it's hot and...old people."

But she knew that it was the right thing to do.

She hastily threw together a suitcase of clothes and toiletries. She considered taking that shirt, the one made of fabric that caused Tori to sneeze like crazy, but she thought better of it.

"Another time, Jade," she said to herself, zipping the suitcase shut.

* * *

It wasn't until Ryan came down the basement steps with his phone screen-side out that Tori became aware of her newfound status as "America's darling".

But instead of being excited that there were scores and scores of people searching for her, she knocked the phone out of his hand with her less-restricted left arm.

"What the hell, Tori?"

She glared at him, her eyes filled with unfiltered rage, "are you fucking kidding me, dude?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Look where I am!" she snarled, "look at what he's doing to me! Last night, your uncle went to town on me with a soldering iron!"

She pulled her hair back and turned her head, showing tracts of long, painful-looking burns on the back of her neck.

"Tori..."

"-and NONE of this...this crap!" she yelled, pointing at his phone on the ground, the screen showing a story with her picture at the top, "-NONE of it would be necessary if you just TOLD SOMEBODY!"

She grabbed a plate from the previous night's dinner and slammed as hard she could against the floor. It shattered into pieces, the shards cutting open her left hand.

"They're NEVER going to find me here!" she roared, her hand now dripping with blood, "and I'm going to DIE because you're too much of a coward to do ANYTHING about it!"

"You know I can't do that!" he protested, "he'll ki-"

"-he'll kill you! Yeah! I know!" she interjected, "and you know something? Maybe he should!"

"What?"

"You've let these people die, Ryan! You could have saved them! You could have put an end to this YEARS ago!"

Ryan leaned back on the opposite wall, defeated, "...what do you want from me, Tori Vega?"

"I want you to pick up that phone," she replied, still fired up, "and I want you to end this. For fuck's sake, Ryan – think about my family! Think about Cat!"

Silence fell on the basement once again, save for Tori's left arm softly rattling the chains holding it to the pipes overhead.

Tori spoke after a few moments, "I'm waiting, dude."

He ignored her.

"Dude, c'mon, don't be mad..."

"I'm not mad at you, Tori," he assured her, "but...maybe it was a mistake to talk to you in the first place. You asked me earlier how I dealt with knowing what my uncle was doing with the people he brought home. Do you remember what my answer was?"

She did. And she didn't like where this was going.

"You can't just...," Tori opposed, "no, no, don't...Ryan you can't just stop talking to me. I need to eat, I need to...if you leave me down here by myself, I'm going to die. Do you hear me?"

She repeated, "I am going to DIE if you leave me down here by myself."

He picked up his phone off the floor without making eye contact, "I'm sorry, Tori."

Tori's eyes widened. He wasn't serious, was he?

"Ryan!" she called to him as he ascended the basement steps, "Ryan, c'mon, I'm starving! I'm so hungry. At least give me some paper towels or something so I can...so I can wrap my hand!"

She heard his voice from the top of the stairs, "I'm sorry, Tori. I'm...I'm just sorry."

The basement door opened and then closed, leaving Tori in the gloomy quiet once more.

"Ryan!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, "Ryan, you can't let me die down here! Ryan, please!"

Silence.

"Ryan!" she yelled even louder, "you are letting me die! How can you live with that? You are letting me die!"

Still nothing.

The only answer to her cries was the occasional chirping of a Lesser Goldfinch, happily enjoying the sunshine in the free world beyond the walls of the basement.


	9. Chapter IX - Common Nighthawk

**CHAPTER IX**

**COMMON NIGHTHAWK**

"Get up."

Tori awoke to the barrel of a handgun pointing directly at her face. She had no idea what time it was, but the crickets that she could hear faintly chirping outside gave her all of the information she required.

Ryan's uncle reiterated the command, "get up."

"I can't," she protested, "you...you need to unlock my right arm."

"What?"

"I said that you need to unlock my right arm," Tori repeated, "I can't stand up with my arm pinned to the wall like this."

Ryan's uncle knelt down unlocked the shackles around both of her arms, all the while keeping the gun trained on her.

Stiff from her captivity, she slowly stood up. Her head spun. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since she had last eaten. The only time that the basement door opened was when Ryan descended a couple of steps and tossed a bottle of water in her direction.

"Upstairs," her captor ordered, jamming the gun into the small of her back, "we're gonna go upstairs and then out the front door."

"Where are we going?"

"Go. Now."

It hadn't even occurred to Tori that this might be her end. Her mind was either not fully awake, too tired, or a combination of the two.

She was led up the stairs, through the kitchen, and then out onto the stone walkway out front. When she took that first step outside, Tori was shocked to see that her prison was in the middle of an ordinary-looking community. The house was separated from its neighbor by a wide driveway, no more than than twelve yards away.

Bzeeent! – a Common Nighthawk buzzed about the dark skies above, chasing moths attracted to the lights of suburbia.

"Keep quiet," Ryan's uncle growled into Tori's ear, prodding her towards the driveway, "we're gonna get into my truck."

"Steve?"

Just then, a woman stepped out from underneath the eave of the adjacent house, flicking on a porch light as she went. She was a cheerful-looking blonde woman in her early-60's, her tone friendly and cordial.

"Who do we have here?"

At least Tori now had a first name for her abductor.

Steve quickly tucked the pistol into the rear waistband of his pants. He put his hand securely on Tori's shoulder and dug in his fingers. She knew exactly what he was trying to say.

"Evening, Marianne," he politely greeted her, "I'd like for you to meet my niece."

Marianne raised an eyebrow, "huh, I thought you said that Ryan was your only-"

Steve cut her off, "-oh, this is a niece I never knew I had until about a year ago. A half-brother...out in Delaware, hadn't spoken to him in decades."

He gripped Tori's shoulder even more tightly, "...family stuff, you know?"

Marianne nodded, "say no more. It's none of my business."

The neighbor took a step towards Tori and stuck out her hand, "my name's Marianne. And what's your name, darling?"

Tori stammered before trailling off, "...my name is T...uh..."

"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't catch that."

"Go on," Steve urged her, warning her through his teeth, "be polite now."

Tori weakly reached out and shook the neighbor's hand. She blurted out the first name that came to her mind, "my name is Cat...Cat, like the animal."

"Pleasure!" Marianne beamed, "isn't that an adorable nickname? Short for...?"

"Catarina," Tori answered, "short for Catarina."

She turned back to Steve, "well, I won't keep you folks anymore, looks like you have somewhere to be."

"Just going out for some late-night ice cream," Steve replied, "have a lot of lost time to make up for."

"Understand totally," the neighbor agreed, turning to walk back inside, "it was lovely meeting you, Cat."

Tori gave her an uncommitted smile. Inside, she was screaming at this woman, hoping with every last ounce that she had seen the news. She so desperately wanted Marianne to draw back and say "wait, you look familiar..." But it was all in vain.

"Have a good rest of your night, Steve," Marianne said.

"You as well, Miss Yingst," Steve responded, watching her until she closed the side door behind her.

Tori had barely a moment to take a breath when she felt the cold metal of handcuffs clasped around her wrists behind her back. Steve then took the gun out of his waistband and replaced it at her kidneys.

"Truck. Go."

He opened the passenger-side door and shoved Tori inside.

"She's a nice lady, Marianne," Steve said as the truck pulled out of the suburban development and onto the deserted highway, "doesn't follow the news, isn't concerned with politics..."

Tori exhaled and leaned her head up against the cold glass of the window.

They drove in silence, onwards into the pitch-blackness. Eventually, the lights of the Phoenix skyline faded. Paved surfaces became dirt. Quaint one-story houses and restaurants turned to large boulders and rock formations. It was only once Steve made that last right turn with his truck, passing by a sign that read "ROUGH ROAD", that Tori decided to speak up.

"Hey," she peeped, "Steve."

No answer.

"Are you going to kill me?"

The truck pulled to a stop at a lonely and dusty dead-end.

"Answer me," Tori commanded, "are you going to kill me?"

Her captor did not reply. He climbed from the driver's seat and momentarily left Tori alone to grab a duffel bag from the tailgate. Then, he opened the passenger door and pointed the gun at her.

"Out of the truck," he snarled, "we're going for a walk."

Still handcuffed and with the handgun aimed at her back, Tori was lead along a small and winding trail. Even in the darkness of night, she could tell that this wasn't nearly as dry an area as the desert in which this whole ordeal had begun. Several times, her face brushed against low-hanging leafy branches.

"Stop."

The order came just as Tori was about to tumble over the edge of a river bank. She could hear the water gurgling from somewhere below. She estimated they had been walking for about twenty to thirty minutes.

"Over there."

Steve tapped her left shoulder.

Tori's eyes adjusted to the night. There stood a shed, constructed entirely from corrugated metal. In the beam of the flashlight, she could see that the shed was almost completely covered by rust. If she had to guess, it was just large enough to hold three or four fully-grown people.

"Go inside," he barked, shoving the gun's barrel slightly deeper into her back, "get inside now."

"Steve," she begged, "Steve, I don't want to die. Please don't do this."

"Get inside right now," he persisted, "inside of the shed."

With little other choice, she pulled back the rusty metal door. The shed was completely empty, save for a series of metal loops, grouped in pairs about two-and-a-half feet from each other, mounted a quarter-of-the-way up the wall.

He set the duffel bag down on the dirty and dusty floor. Its contents made a series of metallic clinking noises.

"Sit," Steve demanded, gesturing with the flashlight, "over there. With your back to the wall."

Facing no alternatives, Tori sat on the floor as she was told. It was the basement all over again.

Steve unzipped the bag, revealing several lengths of chain. He wrapped a chain around each of Tori's wrists and then around the metal loops on the wall, securing each with a heavy padlock. Whereas in the basement, Tori was at least afforded the usage of her left arm, her hands and arms were now chained tightly against the wall.

He finally spoke, "I'm not the one who's going to kill you. It's up to them, those people on the news, the police – it's up to them whether you die or not."

Tori's eyes widened.

"No..." she implored him, "Steve no, please, please...don't...you can't. I...don't want to die."

"Then you better hope someone finds you out here," he replied coldly. In a final insult, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Tori watched as he collected his things. With a final look of satisfaction, he closed the shed door behind him. She heard the click of another lock being secured to the outside.

Then, she was forced to listen as the footsteps eventually faded.


	10. Chapter X - Vermillion Flycatcher

**CHAPTER X**

**VERMILLION FLYCATCHER**

A ground search party found the wrecked vehicle shortly before noon. It still sat leaning up against the ancient Saguaro cactus.

Before long, the scene was swarmed with law enforcement units from various agencies and departments. It was a chore for the police to ward off the media vans that inevitably followed – they had been waiting for a break of this sort.

There was not much in the way of material evidence. A faint casting of the pickup truck's tire treads was taken from the dirt. The bullet that had just barely missed Cat was also collected. Detective Sickler was the first to notice Tori's favorite Stanford t-shirt lying in the dust, the bloodstains long since dried in the baking sun.

"Most importantly," the Captain of the Maricopa County Sheriff's office said at an impromptu press conference with Tori's parents in attendance, "this allows us to refine our search area for Miss Vega."

What the Captain did not share was his own doubts about finding Tori – he knew that, if she was still alive, they were quickly running out of time. He made an off-the-record remark to an associate after the conference, "Mark, I'd say we have another 24 hours tops before this thing goes from being a rescue mission to a recovery mission."

Detective Fields was not amongst the hoards. She was at the hospital, sitting beside Cat's bed.

Cat's parents were on a cruise in the middle of the South Pacific. It would be days before they reached land. For now, Fields was Cat's best ally.

Amongst the media circus that surrounded Tori, it seemed that the other two victims had been largely forgotten. Cat's name was only featured once in passing during that morning's coverage. And it was, incorrectly, spelled with a "K".

Fields had taken a liking to her. Cat was a refreshing change-up from the abrasive personality of Fields' college-athlete-bound-daughter. Her daughter Carly was her entire world, but sometimes the too-casual dropping of obscenities and intense competitive fire that burned beneath her skin was a bit much. She had admit, though, that Carly describing Tori's still-unknown abductor as a "fucking creep" summed up her own thoughts quite nicely.

* * *

Jade and Andre volunteered with a search group, sweeping over the area of the desert just north of where the wreckage was discovered. They had plans to go see Cat the next day.

"Robbie's not coming," Andre lamented, wiping the sweat from his brow and putting his phone back in his pocket, "apparently came down with some kind of food poisoning just before his flight out of Denver."

Jade rolled her eyes, "and that's why you never get sushi at an airport."

In frustration, Jade ripped off her florescent orange safety vest. A Vermillion Flycatcher watched her with curiosity from a nearby shrub.

"Andre, this isn't working."

"We have to keep looking, Jade."

"What do you expect, dude? Why are we even here?"

Andre looked at her with raised eyebrows, "seriously? You're questioning why we would come to look for our best friend who is in trouble?"

"No," Jade answered, "no, I'm questioning what good it was driving out here to look through nothing but rocks and a bunch of dirt."

She wiped the sweat from her own brow, "what are we expecting to find?"

"This is unbelievable, Jade," he reprimanded her, "I know you and Tori have had your issues, but come on – she needs us."

"What about Cat? Or Beck?" she shot back, "what about them?"

"We're going to see both of them later, you know that!"

Jade sat down on a nearby rock, "we're never going to find her, Andre."

"Don't say that."

"I'm just being realistic. It's a horrible thing and I wish that wasn't true. But...we have all of these people looking for her. We have all of these police officers, all of these agencies."

She gestured to a helicopter hovering nearby, "the goddamn FBI is here."

"And?"

"And nobody seems to have any answers."

Andre walked over and put his arm around her shoulders.

"We have to keep trying. It's all we can do."

* * *

As the sun set over the desert, one by one, the search parties called it a night. It started to seem more and more likely that the Captain's ominous prediction would come to fruition.

Inside the remote shed, Tori shivered in the freezing cold of the desert night. This time, she was unable to move pull her arms more than an inch or two from the loops mounted on the corrugated metal. It was no matter. She was nearing 72 hours without water. She was so weak that she could barely hold her head up.

She didn't have much time left.

Then, there in the chill of the darkness, it finally hit her: she was going to die here. She, Tori Vega, was going to die in a shed, somewhere deep in the riparian backcountry of Arizona. It might be weeks, months, or even years before she would be found – if at all. Her parents, her sister, her friends, nobody would ever know what truly happened to her.

She quietly sobbed. She felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, fear, and sadness. It was the most awful combination of emotions, one that she never experienced before.

"Cat," she weeped, "Beck...I'm sorry. I'm so...so sorry."

She paused. Even though she was speaking to nobody, she wanted to get her thoughts together.

"Wherever you guys are, I hope that you're safe...I hope that...you guys..."

Another pause.

"...I hope that you guys know that I love you. And I'm sorry I got us into this..."

She drifted off, unsure of whether she would open her eyes again.

* * *

It was Detective Sickler who took the call that night, the one that caused him to drop everything and go sprinting down the hallway to his partner's office. Ever since Monday, he had been on the receiving end of dozens of dead-end tips – that Tori was seen at a gas station in Arkansas, that she been spotted in the back seat of a mini-van travelling down I-95 in Miami, that she had been reported at a diner outside of Memphis.

No, this call, patched directly through to him, was different.

The caller was a woman who claimed that her neighbor – a former Maricopa County sheriff – was holding "that missing girl on the news" captive. Her description fit Tori to a "T". But what caught the Sickler's attention was the name that the girl gave the tipster.

"There was something off about the whole situation," the woman told the detective, "she said her name was Cat, short for Catarina."

"I never watch the news," she continued, "but I just so happened to turn it on late that night. And I heard about the awful things those children went through. One of them was named Catarina. And then they showed a picture of the missing girl. Detective, I just about had a heart attack then and there."

Neither Sickler nor Detective Fields needed much convincing. In an instant, a parade of police cruisers, unmarked SUV's, and other vehicles sped in a line down the freeway.

With guns drawn, officers banged on the door of the suburban home. When nobody answered, they kicked it down and cleared each room.

Once the house was secured, Fields entered and immediately noticed the door to the basement left ajar.

As she and Sickler descended into the space, a chill ran down her spine. She saw the chains, the shackles, the loops mounted to the wall. There were the shards of the plate that Tori had smashed – stained with blood - and an unplugged soldering iron. As much as she hated to envision it, it was obvious what Cat and Tori had been through.

"She's not here," she radioed into the station, "neither is Billsworth."

"Detective Fields!"

A voice came from upstairs.

She ran up the basement steps. An officer handed her a map.

"Found this on the counter."

Fields opened it on the kitchen table. As she scanned over the various scribblings and writings, her eyes grew wide.

"Garcia," she said to the officer, "I'm going to need you and at least two other units to follow Detective Sickler and myself. I know where this girl is. We need to move, now."

The officer looked back at her in stunned silence.

"Now! We need to move now!"

Fields made a beeline through the door of the house to the vehicle, weaving through the flashing lights and police tape. Sickler climbed in the driver's side. With two marked police units in tow, the convoy pulled out of the development and onto the highway.

"Keep going straight until you hit the exit number twelve," Fields directed.

"How do you know where we're supposed to go?" Sickler inquired, realizing that it was a question he should have asked earlier.

"It was the only place on the map that wasn't crossed out," she explained.

She turned to him, "Gary, somebody in that house wants us to find her, and I can bet you that it's not Billsworth."

He sighed, "you know, you're breaking so much departmental protocol right now."

"Well, they can fire me as soon as we find her."


	11. Chapter XI - Phainopepla

**CHAPTER XI**

**PHAINOPEPLA**

In the dream, she found herself sitting at the Asphalt Cafe.

Andre, Jade, Beck, and Robbie – they were all sitting around her happily chatting away. She opened her mouth to add to the conversation, but she just couldn't seem to form the words. Their voices were strangely distant and echoey.

Just to see if she could, she gently placed her hand on Jade's arm next to her. Jade's skin was cold and clammy, but she didn't seem to notice or care. Once more, Tori opened to mouth to say something. But, again, silence was all that she could muster.

There was a loud clicking noise from her left. She turned her head to see Cat standing behind Andre. She had her hand on his shoulder, her gaze affixed directly upon Tori. Her expression was sad and bereaved. She opened her mouth and spoke. Her voice was quiet, her tone was cold and resigned.

"Is this what it feels like to die?"

Tori finally spoke, "what?"

A trickle of blood fell from the corner of Cat's eye, staining her cheek as it descended.

Cat repeated herself. "Is this what it feels like to die?"

At that moment, Tori felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked up to see a beautiful Indian woman whom she did not recognize. She was dressed in a traditional lehenga, the flowing skirt covered in intricate and ornate patterns in gold-leaf. Her makeup was just as immaculate, perfectly accenting her glowing skintone.

"She wants to know what it's like to die," she said to Tori. In contrast to Cat's unsettling aura, there was an almost soothing quality about her voice.

Tori piped up, "am...I dead?"

"Answer her, pyaari," the woman prompted. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around Tori's shoulders. Tori felt a great sense of warmth and comfort from this strange figure.

"Look at her," she whispered in Tori's ear, "everything will be okay."

Tori's eyes rose to Cat once again. In an instant, she realized that they were the only two people in the food court. Her friends, the rest of the cafe, the stranger – they had all disappeared.

"Is this what it feels like to die?" Cat squeaked, the blood continuing to stream down from her eye.

At that instant, a voice interjected from somewhere in the distance, "Tori! Wake up!"

Tori's eyes flew open.

She was lying on the ground outside of the shed. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she became aware of Ryan kneeling down next to her, gripping a metal flashlight in between his teeth. A set of keys dropped from his grip into the dirt near her head.

"Tori!" he cried as he took the flashlight out of his mouth. He was noticeably winded, "Tori, are you...? I found his keys. I found them, they-"

He put his hand on her thigh, "I'm so sorry, Tori. I'm so sorry that I let him drag you out here. I'm sorry that I didn't tell anybody. I'm sorry that I let all of this happen in the first place."

Ryan suddenly jerked his head upwards and looked behind him.

"We need to go," he said hurriedly, "I don't think we..."

He was speaking a mile-a-minute.

"My car...it's just up that trail over there." He gestured with his head, "I left...they...the police know where you are, but...he came home early and...we can't wait."

There was a slight pause.

"Let's just get you out of here."

He slipped the flashlight into his pocket and leaned down further to gather her in his arms. Just as he did, there was a crunch of the dried vegetation nearby.

"Shit!" Ryan swore, "he's...Tori, we need to go!"

He scooped her up, "-gotta get across the river."

Though completely out of breath, he carried her as carefully but as quickly down the steep riverbank as he could muster.

A gunshot – care of a bolt-action rifle – rang out into the air from somewhere behind them.

"Oh God!" he exclaimed, "c'mon Tor, we gotta-"

Without a second thought, he waded into the tranquility of the wide river until the waters were up above his stomach.

Up until that point, Tori was just barely on the edge of consciousness. But when Ryan stumbled and her head went under the surface of the water, she suddenly snapped to attention, coughing and sputtering.

"Sorry, Tor," he panted, pushing every muscle in his body through the water, "I'm...he's-"

He was cut off by the floodlight that illuminated the two of them from shore.

Another gunshot. This one was much closer than the first. And then another.

Tori wanted to say something – anything – but there just wasn't a single word that she felt would help. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut, constantly expecting one of the bullets to find its target – whichever one that was.

"You son of a bitch!" Ryan yelled into the night, "you fucking psycho!"

A fourth gunshot. Then a fifth.

He powered on, huffing and grunting.

They were almost across, the water now at his knees. At the instant of the sixth "_bang!_", a fantastic and indescribably painful burning sensation tore through her leg.

Ryan immediately felt a warm liquid running down the outside of his upper-arm, "oh God, To-"

A seventh "bang!". Ryan gasped and pitched forward. Tori landed on her stomach in the shallows. In spite of the throbbing in her leg, she started to claw her way onto the soft earth of the bank. Behind her, Ryan staggered to his feet.

The floodlight from the opposite shore suddenly switched off. The gunshots ceased.

"Ryan?" Tori whimpered into the night.

She heard him fall with a "thud!" on the riverbank nearby. She could just barely make out his form, lying on its back in the darkness. Pulling herself along with her arms, she crawled towards him.

As soon as she reached the spot where he lay, even in the dim light that the crescent moon above provided, she could see the blood pouring from the side of his neck.

She felt around in his pocket, pulled out the flashlight he had stowed away, and switched it on.

The scene that filled the beam of light immediately took her back to that first night in the desert.

Ryan was ghostly pale, his pupils dilated. His eyelids were beginning to flicker. All that he could muster was the most awful choking sound. Blood, almost whipped into a foam, bubbled from the sides of his mouth.

She immediately ripped off her t-shirt and pressed it up against his neck, "c'mon Ryan, you're gonna be okay! Just stay with me!"

He gurgled and sputtered.

"Oh God, no," she shouted, "no, please! C'mon Ryan."

She reached for his hand with her free arm and clutched it tightly.

"You're gonna go to Michigan State, pre-med," she reminded him, the tears starting to flow down her cheeks, "you're going to graduate at the top of your class and then go on to study medicine wherever you want."

She wiped the tears from her eyes.

"You're going to get away from here," she continued, "you're going to..."

Silence, save for the insects buzzing away in the treetops and the tall grasses that surrounded them.

"Ryan?" she peeped.

No answer.

She placed her index and middle fingers against the inside of his wrist, though it was already obvious to her that he was gone.

Suddenly, she was slammed down onto the ground on her back. Her head bounced off of the soil. She could just make out Steve's face staring down at her.

Once more, Tori was too weak and in too much shock to say anything. He climbed on top of her, straddling her waist with his legs.

"Bitch," he swore at her. She felt his fingers on her arms, moving up towards her throat. His right pointer caught the strap of her sports bra.

Then, in an instant, he wrapped his hands fully around her neck and started to squeeze. His thumbs pressed hard into her windpipe.

She gasped, entirely unable to breathe. Just then, a sudden surge of fury ignited beneath her skin.

With every last ounce of strength that she could muster, she swiped and clawed vigoriously at his eyes. If he was going to kill her, then she wanted to make sure that he would forever remember her face.

"Fucking...bitch!" he swore again, squeezing her throat even tighter despite her efforts.

Tori could feel the life slipping out of her. Her head was becoming lighter and lighter and the darkness was starting to close in around her vision.

This, she concluded, was what it felt like to die.

"Billsworth!" someone shouted, "Steve, let the girl go, right now! Keep your hands where I can see them".

Steve immediately released Tori's neck and looked up. Standing no more than twenty feet from him was Detective Fields, her service pistol aimed directy at him, holding her flashlight with her other hand beneath the barrel.

He chuckled, "you gonna shoot me, Linda?"

"Fuck you," she replied sternly, "what you're going to do is lie face-down on the ground and put your hands behind your back."

Steve didn't respond.

"I'm warning you, Steve..." Fields asserted, taking a step towards him, "do it, right now."

It all happened so quickly. Steve began to do as he was told before suddenly reaching for something behind his back. Fields had no choice. She fired three shots directly into his chest. He slumped forward onto the riverbank – dead.

Detective Fields holstered her weapon and ran up to Tori.

"Sweetheart, sweetheart...it's okay," she consoled her, "are you hurt?"

"My leg..." Tori stammered, "he...he shot...he shot my leg...shot my friend..."

Fields pulled out her radio from her back pocket, "dispatch, Detective Fields at Phainopepla State Park, about a quarter mile down the red trail. I have the girl, she is alive – repeat, she is alive. I need paramedics down here immediately and-"

She walked over to where Ryan was lying and felt for a pulse, "-we're going to need the medical examiner. I have two deceased..."

She turned back to Tori, "you're safe now, hun, I promise."

"Jesus Christ, Linda," Detective Sickler admonished her as he walked down the trail above the two, followed by Detective Ambrose, Robinson, and several uniformed officers, "don't go rushing off like that on your own."

He shined his light on Steve's lifeless body.

"Guy had a gun in his waistband-"

"-I wait for you and this turns out much differently," Linda fired back, "and let's not do this in front of the girl."

Sickler shut his mouth. She was right, this was neither the time nor the place.

He crouched down next to Tori, "we're gonna get you home, Tori."

She closed her eyes and laid back on the mud. A million thoughts were rushing through her head.

"Officer Middendorf," Linda shouted to one of the uniformed policemen near her, "toss me that emergency blanket. And tell those paramedics to get a move-on!"

Detective Fields spread it caringly over Tori. It was at that moment that Tori realized how freezing cold she was – soaked to the bone with nothing but leggings and sports-bra on.

Completely exhausted, she closed her eyes as the officers spread out across the scene. She didn't hear Detective Ambrose pull Fields aside not far from where she rested.

"Yeah, Fields," Detective Ambrose said, speaking in a low and serious tone, "just got word from Phoenix. Catarina Valentine – red-haired girl we found along I-60.-"

"-I know who she is," Fields interjected, "Just talked to her this morning. What are you trying to say?"

He paused. The father of two teenage daughters, this case had worn him down more than any other in his ten-year career.

"-she...uh...she died in her sleep earlier this evening. There was a clot that broke free and lodged in her brain."

Silence. Fields looked back at him with a mixture of surprise and grief.

"I'm...uh..." Ambrose began, "I'm sorry, Linda. I know we're not supposed to get attached to victims in this line of work, but...uh...I know how much you liked her."

Fields said nothing in response.

"Hey, uh, Gary," she said to Detective Sickler, "seems like you guys have this under control, so I'm gonna head back to Phoenix. "

"Alright," Sickler replied, eyeing her up, "you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah..." she answered, doing her best to save face, "I'm...uh...case has just been a bit rough and I need...I just need to myself back together."

Sickler nodded.

As Detective Fields walked back up the trail, she passed by the paramedics.

"Straight ahead, guys," she directed them.

"Thanks," one of the paramedics said, "we have an airlift on stand-by if we need it."

When she reached the vehicle, she climbed in the driver's side and started the engine. She made her way through the maze of news vans and media trucks that had gathered in the parking area.

Some two miles down the lonely highway, she pulled over and leaned her head against the steering wheel before bursting into tears.


End file.
